


Lately, I've been

by goseaward



Series: One Direction pornlets [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Another," Harry says.</p><p>"Another finger?"</p><p>Harry shakes his hair and settles back against the pillows again, like a bird with its feathers.  "Yeah."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lately, I've been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estrella30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/gifts).



When Zayn slips a third finger into Harry's arse, Harry throws his head back onto the pillow, baring his throat. He's had a frown of concentration since Zayn started really working him with two, and three seems to have undone him completely. It's hot, how much he loves this. 

Zayn wants to ask how Harry's doing, if Zayn's giving him what he wants, if he needs it harder or softer or faster or deeper. But the words seem stuck in his throat, somewhere behind the questions about who else he's been doing this with, how he's been getting it on the road now that Zayn's not with them any more. He doesn't know how to say any of it without sounding like the jealous prick he secretly is. But this, this he knows how to do. He rubs his jaw along the inside of Harry's thigh, letting the stubble scrape, and Harry moans softly and his dick jerks, fat against his belly. 

"You're opening up so good for me," Zayn says, instead of anything about what it means that they're doing this again.

Harry opens his eyes and glances down his body at Zayn. He gives the impression of looking coyly up through his lashes, though it's entirely the wrong angle for that. He keeps getting better-looking, somehow. Being away has made it all more immediate, from the cut of his jaw to the little ripples of his abs, damp now with sweat.

Zayn closes his eyes and mouths at Harry's balls. He can't look at him right now. It's still too strange, doing this when they're not seeing each other every day, when it's not relieving stress on tour, but something they've chosen to do on their own free time. Harry tilts his hips into Zayn's tongue, and Zayn curls his fingers in reward, feeling Harry's hole flex around him as he hits the right spot. Everything about it is achingly familiar, the warm musky taste of him and the smooth muscle clutching Zayn's fingers and the tension in his thighs, the way he's gone quiet and overwhelmed.

"You ready?" Zayn says, reaching for the condom.

"Another," Harry says. His voice is a deep rasp, disused.

"Another finger?"

Harry shakes his hair and settles back against the pillows again, like a bird with its feathers. "Yeah." 

Okay. Zayn can do that. He adds a little more lube and presses his pinky finger in along with the rest. It doesn't do much for the stretch--his pinky isn't very big--but Harry moans anyway and lets his knees flop out wider, giving Zayn more room.

He fucks Harry gently with his fingers. Harry's still watching him, but not in a very focused way--more concerned with what he's feeling than what it looks like, probably. He's very into being touched; Zayn's always liked that about him, that you can calm him with a hand on his shoulder or a kiss on his cheek. 

Zayn grabs Harry's dick and gives it a few good strokes, and Harry groans out something like his name. Zayn likes giving Harry handies, because he's got a foreskin to play with and it's so different from Zayn's own dick--he wouldn't want anything else for himself, of course, but it's fun to play hide and seek with the smooth round wet pink head of Harry's dick, at least until he gets hard enough that the foreskin won't go up easily any more. But that's good too, in its own way.

Harry loosens further as Zayn works, until Zayn can flatten his fingers out more like a paddle, instead of letting the pressure crunch them into a bundle. Harry gasps when Zayn does it and then grabs his knee and pulls it up towards his chest. "Good, babe," Zayn says. "Y'wanna grab the other one, show yourself off for me?"

That gets a soft, slightly hazy smile from Harry. Soon he's got both hands in the crooks of his knees, holding his long legs up and out so Zayn can see his hand sliding into Harry's body below his full bollocks. The rim of his arse stays tight around Zayn's hand as he turns his wrist--Zayn wasn't sure what that would look like, but there isn't really any room around his hand to stay open when his fingers twist to a different angle. 

Stilling his fingers, Zayn sucks the plump head of Harry's dick into his mouth and pumps it slowly with his free hand, not much pressure, until Harry starts to rock his hips to get deeper. Then he pulls off and reaches for the condom again. "You good?"

"More," Harry says.

Zayn frowns for a moment. Harry's rocking back against his fingers again, not up into the disappeared heat of Zayn's mouth, so he seems to mean more for his arse and not his cock. "There aren't any more, babe," Zayn says. 

Harry whines and rolls his hips greedily, pushing back harder against Zayn's knuckles. 

Slowly he figures out what Harry's asking for, maybe without knowing he's asking for it. "Unless you want my hand."

"F-fuck," Harry stutters out, deep and slow. He shakes the hair out of his face again. "Yeah."

For a long moment, Zayn hesitates. He's a little afraid of hurting Harry, if he's honest. He doesn't get off on that, though he thinks Harry might. One of the many things they never really talk about. But Harry wants it so much, pleading with every trembling muscle in his body, and Zayn can give this to him, if he dares. 

"Okay," Zayn says, and Harry draws in a deep breath and pushes out against Zayn's hand. Zayn pushes back just a bit, and his knuckles slide inside Harry too, thumb pressed flat against his perineum.

"Oh God," Harry says. He pulls on his knees, putting himself even more on display.

Zayn turns his wrist again, looking at Harry where he's stretched. The skin is reddened but not injured--flushed more with arousal than anything, he thinks. Zayn's heart's beating fast behind his breastbone, and his cock's so hard between his thighs, even though he's doing his best to ignore it so he can focus on Harry, sweating and shaking and falling to pieces around him. It's more than he can really handle, but letting Harry down would be worse. 

Zayn tries thrusting his hand and the first push in is difficult, but it gets easier the more he does it, the tight pull receding until it's--well, still a lot harder than three fingers was, but not impossible.

He knows what comes next, even if he's never tried it himself. He kisses Harry's thigh again, stares at his face to make sure he's still on board, and Harry's so blissed out he's not even looking at Zayn any more, face turned into his shoulder, hair fanned out on the pillow. Normally Zayn would give him some fingers to suck on right about now, but normally he'd be fucking into Harry. His arms aren't long enough to reach now so he gives him his thumb instead, tucks it into his palm and starts to push into Harry's body.

It seems impossible. He's so stretched it's more like pushing against stone than flesh, and even with Harry working with him, tugging back harder on his knees and pressing himself against Zayn's hand, he doesn't think they'll be able to manage it. He's disappointed, suddenly, where he was terrified before: he's not used to failing Harry. Fuck. He lets his hand slide partway out--"Just getting more lube," he says, when Harry's eyes fly open in a panic--lubes up and tries again, with his other arm braced on his elbow, giving him a little more leverage.

Suddenly, something gives and his whole hand slides into Harry's body. Harry moans out long and low. His hole is a vice grip around Zayn's wrist, but soft and blood-warm around his fingers. Zayn starts to curl his fingers and suddenly Harry's foot knocks into Zayn's side and Harry's sitting halfway up and holding Zayn's arm in place--fuck his core strength, seriously, Zayn's not sure why he's the one always doing all the work. "Don't move," Harry says, gritty, eyes far away. 

"Okay, babe," Zayn says, as soothingly as he can. "I've got you. Lie down. I won't move."

Harry stares at him for a moment, then grabs his knee again and lays back. It's fucking obscene, how he looks. Sort of normal, with his hard cock and long limbs, and then his hole spread so wide around Zayn's entires wrist. Zayn leans down to lick where his hand's holding Harry open, pressing the flat of his tongue to the stretched-thin skin there. The lube doesn't taste very nice but Harry always does, and it seems to relax him, the crush around Zayn's hand easing and Harry's thighs falling the slightest bit open again.

Before he can stop himself, Zayn says, "Have you done this before?" 

Harry bites his lip and shakes his hand.

"I've got you," Zayn says again. He doesn't like feeling possessive, but it's always a danger when he's got Harry like this. He flickers his tongue around the rim of his hole again, and then up to the base of his cock. "Can I move yet?" Zayn says. Harry hesitates, and Zayn adds, "I won't do it much. Just a little."

"Just the tip?" Harry says, half smiling.

"Don't think it'd fit." Zayn surveys the situation. "Might break you."

Harry groans at that, which wasn't what Zayn was going for, but he'll take it. Finally, Harry says, "Okay."

Zayn doesn't try making a fist again. He just pushes his whole hand (fuck!) half an inch in, then pulls it back. 

Harry shudders out a breath above him. "I can't--" 

Zayn curls his free hand around Harry's cock and gives it a few tugs. He turns the hand inside Harry so his knuckles are pressing up right where they need to be, and just like that Harry starts to come with a low, drawn-out moan. He tightens rhythmically, impossibly, around Zayn, and each time he does, it squeezes another spurt of come out of his dick, until his stomach's all wet and he's limp on the bed, breathing like he's just run a race.

"I'm gonna pull out now," Zayn says, and Harry just flaps a hand at him. Zayn's worried for a moment that he'll be stuck, but his hand slides out--if not easily--and then he's faced with the fact that he's hard as anything and Harry's probably not in any shape to help out. He reaches down to stroke himself, and gets a few good ones in before Harry's waving a condom in front of his face.

Zayn blinks.

"If you wanna," Harry says. "'s probably like throwing tennis balls down a hallway right now, but--"

"Fuck, you've got a mouth on ya," Zayn says, and Harry gives him his best dimply grin.

Zayn slicks the condom on and slides himself into Harry's body. It's easier than usual, for sure, but--shit, Zayn doesn't need anything more than this, not right now. His hand still feels cold after the heat of Harry's arse and it's slipping all over his hip where Zayn's trying to hold on, Harry's dick is soft and wet because of what Zayn did to him, and--fuck, yeah, there it is. He bites his lip and comes into the condom, then collapses on Harry's chest.

"You're heavier than usual," Harry says after a moment. "How much have you been cooking, anyway?"

"Ssh," Zayn says, putting a finger to Harry's lips. "'m sleeping."

Harry licks his finger, so Zayn replaces it with his mouth, and they snog lazily for a bit. But he does eventually have to move away so he can hold the base of the condom as he pulls out. Harry makes a little noise of protest, but he stays flopped on the bed, so it couldn't have been too bad.

He's not used to Harry's house yet; they only ever did this on the road before, with bins near the bed and a sink just steps away. But he manages to find the lav anyway, and a flannel, so he cleans up and then goes back to clean Harry up, too.

When he gets back, Harry's sitting up in bed, looking slightly more composed, though still fairly sticky. Harry wipes himself down whilst Zayn pulls the sheets off the bed, and together they make it again with fresh linens in silence. Harry looks like he's going to say something, and Zayn waits him out.

"You're staying, then?" he says, finally, as they're pulling up the duvet.

"Yeah, 'm yours for tonight," Zayn says.

Harry's eyes go big and limpid at that. "I wasn't sure."

"Same deal as always," Zayn says. "Just, like. Not in a hotel."

"Good," Harry says. If it's a little shaky, Zayn doesn't mention it. Instead, they climb into bed together, and Zayn spoons up behind Harry, knees tucked into his knees, mouth by his ear. Harry, in his arms again, despite everything.

Zayn's lucky. He knows it, always and forever. And he'll take what he can get.


End file.
